


With Me

by scarletjedi



Series: quiobi week 17 [6]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: General Jinn, M/M, QuiObi Week 2017, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 18:37:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11515128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletjedi/pseuds/scarletjedi
Summary: Obi-Wan remembered clearly Qui-Gon’s reaction when Yaddle had offered him a Council seat (“I mean this from the bottom of my heart.Fuck. No.”), though he hadn’t understood it at the time. It seemed the best way for Qui-Gon to advocate for the reform he had been trying to implement for years.Now, Obi-Wan had the seat, and the paperwork, and theheadache—And the War.AndQui-Gon-karking-Jinn.





	With Me

**Author's Note:**

> Written for QuiObi Week 2017, with the help of hobbitystmarymorstan!

* * *

Obi-Wan saw the war coming. He saw it in the increased unrest of the systems he was set to. He saw it in the political rise of his grandmaster Dooku, in the carefully hidden production of battle droids--often suggested but never confirmed. He saw it in the rumblings of the senate and the voices of the dissenters that crowded the steps of the senate. 

Mostly, however, Obi-Wan saw the war in visions that disturbed his nights and haunted his days. 

Qui-Gon knew. When Obi-Wan first started showing signs of stress, his dear former master had pulled it out of him, the whole damn story. They had agreed to work together, to keep the future from repeating, but they had no guide, knew no landmarks. 

When Obi-Wan stumbled over Kamino, with its storms and blinding white walls and thousands and thousands of bright sparks behind identical faces, Obi-Wan knew it was far too late. Perhaps, they’d never had a choice in the first place. 

War was upon them.

* * *

When asked, Obi-Wan could never explain exactly _how_ he had ended up on the Council, of all places. He was by no means a strict adherent to the Jedi Code (how could he be, with his love for his partner and brother padawan hidden deep in his chest), but one day, when he had offered advice, Mace Windu had nodded at his wisdom, and Shaak Ti had seconded, and from there it was a slipping slope to a council seat. 

Obi-Wan suspected that this was all Qui-Gon’s fault. 

Qui-Gon and _Mace_. 

Obi-Wan remembered clearly Qui-Gon’s reaction when Yaddle had offered him a Council seat (“I mean this from the bottom of my heart. _Fuck. No._ ”), though he hadn’t understood it at the time. It seemed the best way for Qui-Gon to advocate for the reform he had been trying to implement for years. 

Now, Obi-Wan had the seat, and the paperwork, and the _headache_ —

And the War. 

And _Qui-Gon-karking-Jinn_.

* * *

“I won’t do it,” Qui-Gon said, bursting into his quarters, and Obi-Wan sighed heartily, shoulders slumping where he stood in his small kitchen, preparing tea. “I’m a Jedi, not a General,” Qui-Gon continued. “We are keepers of the peace, not soldiers.” 

Obi-Wan placed his teapot gently down on the counter, lest he be tempted to hurl it at Qui-Gon’s stubborn, fat head. 

“Please, Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan said, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose where a small headache had been lurking all day. He was tired--tired of all the thousand little things that he had to do and never truly had time for. “I am well familiar with the edicts of our Order, and I don’t need you to lecture me on the role of the Jedi. I need you to not fight me on this.” 

Qui-Gon crossed his arms. his face could have been made of stone, and Obi-Wan wanted to rage at him, to throw himself against that wall until it cracked, but he didn’t. He kept his temper, swallowed down his rage, and let Qui-Gon speak. “I don’t know why you think I wouldn't’ fight this. I believe I made my position on the matter clear in the Council room.”

“You have,” Obi-Wan said, more shortly than he would have otherwise. When Kamino had first been discovered, Qui-Gon’s voice had been the loudest to argue against the use of a clone army. The duplicitous nature of their origin aside, Qui-Gon had argued, the way they were conditioned and trained denied them the right to choice that was inalienable to all sentient beings and to use such an army would make the Republic complicit to slavery on a scale unseen even by the Hutts. 

It wasn’t that Obi-Wan disagreed—in fact he agreed wholeheartedly on that point—but Obi-Wan had always been better at seeing the bigger picture. There was no way for any of them to get out of this clean (and Obi-Wan remembered too well the vision that had haunted him since his battle with the Sith in the bowels of Theed’s palace. He would do anything to stop it, but not at the lives of the innocents that would die if they did nothing). 

“Then I don’t know why you keep pressing the issue!” 

And Obi-Wan’s already quite frayed temper finally snapped, and he brought his open palms down on the countertop with a resounding crack, rattling the cookery and startling Qui-Gon into stepping back when Obi-Wan turned on him.

“Because people are dying!” Obi-Wan snapped. “Innocent people, who do not have the training or resources that these clones have, and if I can do something to save _any_ of them, I will use every resource available to me to do so!”

Qui-Gon was so still as to be nearly shaking with it. “Resources,” he murmured, disgust coloring his words, and he shook his head. “You can not make me do this,” Qui-Gon said, again, louder. 

“No, I can’t,” Obi-Wan muttered, his words souring on his tongue. “You've made it abundantly clear that you won’t listen to anything _I_ say on the matter. ”

Qui-Gon flushed red, his eyes flashing. “There is a better way,” he insisted, “a Jedi way.”

Obi-Wan stared at Qui-Gon, incredulous. Did he not think Obi-Wan had tried? That he hadn’t spent hours and days trying to think of an alternate solution? One that didn’t involve making decisions that went against every moral fibre in his being? That didn’t involve sending innocent, good men to their deaths? Men who were not only _not_ slaves by a _technicality of language_ , and where, in fact, children in age, if not in growth? 

Did Qui-Gon think Obi-Wan was _okay_ with this?

“Go on then!” Obi-Wan said, his voice shaking with the strength of his ire, and he raised his hand out to Qui-Gon. “Tell me! Because I have come up empty every time. _I. Am. All. Ears._ ” 

Qui-Gon’s nostrils flared, a tell of his temper, and Obi-Wan wished he would just let it out. He had seen Qui-Gon wrath in the past; he had weathered it then, he would weather it now, and just maybe it would cool Qui-Gon enough to _listen_ for once in his stubborn existence. 

“Dooku has fallen—That much is clear,” he began, and Obi-Wan closed his eyes. Of course that would be his master’s focus. The betrayal of losing yet another of their line to the dark would sting at Qui-Gon’s pride and rock his faith in his own path. For all that Qui-Gon had questioned the Order, he had never been calm when forced to confront his own methods. “It is the Jedi’s duty to fight the Sith. So _let me fight him,_ as a Jedi would.” 

“What?” Obi-Wan blinked. “Absolutely not.” 

“He's my master—”

“You are _your own_ master,” Obi-Wan cut in. “Being your student taught me that.” 

“And you learned that lesson well,” Qui-Gon said. “But this is the only way!” Qui-Gon insisted. “Anakin agrees with me.” 

“Oh, well, if _Anakin_ agrees.” _Did he even hear himself?_ “In case it has escaped your notice, _I am not Anakin_ ” Obi-Wan forced himself to breathe for a moment, continuing in a quieter, not not calmer, voice. “Nor am I Mace or Yoda or Plo or any of the other whose deliberateness you so despise.” He pressed his palms to the center of his chest. “I am Obi-Wan, and, for the moment, I am General Kenobi.” He lowered his hands, standing taller and letting all the weight of his authority settle around his shoulders like a mantle, and it felt like the weight of the world. He saw the realization in Qui-Gon’s eyes, and of course _this_ was the weight that would make him bend. 

“I don't want you to fight _for_ me,” Obi-Wan said, letting the mantle slip away. He sounded so very tired. “I want you to fight _with_ me.” 

The distance between them yawned, wider than it had been in years, and Obi-Wan felt the future shiver ahead of them. So much rested on this moment. How could he make Qui-Gon see?

Qui-Gon’s ears were already closed, his mind made up, and Obi-Wan was feared that the moment was already lost. But he could not give up. 

“I _will_ fight him,” Qui-Gon said, quiet. 

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, his trembling lips pulling back in a mockery of a grin. “Then you would stake the whole galaxy for the sake of your principle!” He forced himself to open his eyes, to look at Qui-Gon’s face. “And what choice did you give them in _that?_ ”

“He is but one man—”

“He is _not._ ” Obi-Wan’s hand raised, clenching around air. “He's the head of an army—

Qui-Gon spread his hands. “Cut off the leader and the rest will topple—”

“Not this time!,” Obi-Wan countered, slapping the table for emphasis. “Not, if what we suspect is true, and his rise is orchestrated from without! He is not the head of the snake, and to fight him _is_ to fight his army—and you cannot fight army by yourself” 

Through it all, Qui-Gon shook his head. “What do you lose by trying? If I fail, you will keep fighting your war with your slave army—”

“I lose you!” Obi-Wan cried, and that, it seemed, was enough to shock Qui-Gon into stillness. “Why do you value your life so cheaply? I don't!” He shook his head. “Have you not heard a damned word I have said these past ten years? How could you not understand that I would let the galaxy _burn_ to keep you.” 

Obi-Wan forced himself not to look away. He couldn’t face the expression on Qui-Gon’s face - whatever it could be would be too terrible to bear. And Qui-Gon didn’t speak, so Obi-Wan filled the silence. 

“We both know that you will do something selfish and stupid and reckless at every opportunity. If not this, then something else, for a different reason that is no less noble and _right_ and likely to turn you into a fucking martyr.” He shook his head. “I'm asking you not to do it alone, or to at least give me a friendly warning.” He squeezed his eyes shut, his hands fists at his side. “Give me the choice to be stupid with you!” 

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said, his voice breaking and Obi-Wan would have turned only to have Qui-Gon stop him with a hand on his arm. His face snapped up, and stood frozen as Qui-Gon searched his eyes. “My dear Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said, and kissed him. 

Obi-Wan fairly melted into the heat, the strength of him—but his desire had been a constant companion for years, and it did not rule him. 

Obi-Wan broke the kiss and pulled back, “We’re not done,” he said, his words nearly a hiss, but far too raw for that. 

“Later,” Qui-Gon ground out, leaning back in, but Obi-Wan twisted his face away. 

“You can’t use this to distract me!” 

Qui-Gon growled. “I’m not trying to distract you,” he said, and cupped the side of Obi-Wan’s face, pulling him back around. “How did you say it? I’m _trying_ to give you the choice to be stupid _with me!_ ” Qui-Gon tightened his hold. “I have wanted you every moment you have been gone from me, desiring nothing more than to be by your side in all things—”

Now it was Obi-Wan’s turn to cut him off, to stop the flow of words with a fierce kiss that drew blood as his lip caught on Qui-Gon’s tooth. The sudden tang of salt and copper fanned the flames higher and the Force screamed—a cry of triumph like that of a bird of prey, and the air crackled around them as reality _shuddered_ , the future racing out ahead of them. Obi-Wan pushed, walking Qui-Gon backwards until he hit the table, and Obi-Wan was able to rut against him. Qui-Gon’s hands slipped around to grip Obi-Wan’s backside, urging him on. 

Breaking apart to gasp for air, Obi-Wan shivered as Qui-Gon mouthed along his jaw, scraping his teeth against Obi-Wan’s beard. 

“Did you feel that?” Obi-Wan whispered, strained as Qui-Gon bit gently over the back of his jaw. 

“Mace’ll have a headache in the morning,” Qui-Gon said into Obi-Wan’s skin, his voice so low Obi-Wan felt it more than heard it. 

Obi-Wan moaned, “Don’t make me think about Mace now.” He reached up, twining his fingers through Qui-Gon’s hair and tugging just enough to get Qui-Gon to lean back. His eyes were nearly swallowed up by the dark of his pupils. Obi-Wan tugged again, gently, and Qui-Gon grunted, his arousal swelling through the Force as he bared his throat. 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan breathed, sending the contents of the table crashing to the ground with a wild thrust of the Force even as he pushed his former Master onto his back. He climbed on top of Qui-Gon to sink his teeth into the side of his neck, sucking hard to create a possessive mark. Qui-Gon cried out at the first flash of pain, but pulled Obi-Wan closer all the same. 

Obi-Wan pulled back, bracing his hands on Qui-Gon’s chest as he rocked his hips, grinding his cock against the answering hardness hidden behind Qui-Gon’s tabards. Qui-Gon’s hair was a mess, his tunics askew, and Obi-Wan’s mark fairly glowed red. He sucked on his lip as he lost himself to the rhythm of friction. 

Qui-Gon’s hands ran restlessly up and down Obi-Wan’s chest, settling on his thighs to urge Obi-Wan on. “Gods, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon breathed. “I want to see you.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, tongue curling though a crooked grin. “You’ve seen me; many times.” 

“Not,” Qui-Gon growled, one hand coming up to rub at Obi-Wan’s cock, “like this.” 

“Fuck,” Obi-Wan breathed, and his fingers shook as he fumbled with the fasteners on his belt. He barely registered the thud as it fell to the floor behind him, his attention already on getting himself free of linen and silk, drunk on the lust in Qui-Gon’s eyes. 

Bare from the waist up, Obi-Wan turned his attention to Qui-Gon’s belt. “I have to feel you,” he muttered, “I have to—” he didn’t bother pulling the leather free, merely opening it to push it aside, shoving Qui-Gon’s tunics up and out of the way, to run his fingers through the greying hair on Qui-Gon’s chest, to scratch his nails along smooth skin over hard muscle. Qui-Gon arched beneath him, and Obi-Wan rode the motion, giddy at the possibilities that rose in his mind. 

But there would be time for them later; Obi-Wan was too on edge, already feeling the heat rising low in his belly. 

Obi-Wan pressed his hand to the center of Qui-Gon’s chest, over that dreadful scar. 

“Stay,” he said, and waited for Qui-Gon to focus on him, to nod his agreement. 

Obi-Wan knelt up, knees barely on the edge of the table, and quickly undid the stays on his pants, pushing them down just far enough to free his cock to the open air. It was flushed dark, and already the tip was shiny and wet. He gripped it, stroked it, and shuddered at the feel of it, watching Qui-Gon through slitted eyes as he started to reach up, to reach out, and caught himself. 

Obi-Wan smirked. “You want this?” he asked, slowing his strokes. Qui-Gon nodded. 

“How do you want it?” Obi-Wan asked. “Do you want me to rub against you? Rutting as if in heat?” His accent caught on the last “t”, making it pop and sizzle. “Or perhaps you wish to watch as I stroke myself to completion above you. You did say you wanted to see me.” 

Qui-Gon let out a small sound, biting his lip to keep it in, and Obi-Wan grinned. He’d have to keep that in mind. “Or do you wish to suck me? Is that it? Should I feed you my cock until I can fuck your throat?” 

Head falling back to thunk against the table, Qui-Gon moaned aloud, and Obi-Wan wondered if it was the idea or the words that had Qui-Gon flushed and aching. 

“Or maybe I’ll just fuck you.” 

“Anything!” Qui-Gon cried at last. “All of it, just please! Just cease this tease!” 

Obi-Wan closed his eyes as the desperation in Qui-Gon’s voice went straight to his cock, and for a tense moment, Obi-Wan was sure he would break. 

“Oh, Obi...” Qui-Gon whispered, aware of it too, and quickly undid his own flies. Then, he reached out for Obi-Wan, pulling him down into a needy kiss. Obi-Wan’s knuckles brushed against Qui-Gon’s cock, and he opened his hand to fit around the both of them. Qui-Gon groaned Obi-Wan’s mouth as Obi-Wan began to stroke, and lowered his shields. 

Obi-Wan was nearly swept away by wave of _lovelustwantneed_ that flowed from Qui-Gon, and sent his own coursing back, making his own climax secondary, lost as he was in the bond between them. 

It took time for Obi-Wan to retreat back into his own body, to feel the way he and Qui-Gon had wrapped around each other. Hs mouth felt bruised and raw, and his leg ached where it was pressed against the edge of the table. His stomach and chest itched, and he was afraid that he and Qui-Gon might be uncomfortably stuck together. 

And Obi-Wan couldn’t care less about any of it, pressing a gentle kiss over the bruise darkening on Qui-Gon’s neck. It...really was rather prominent. He should probably be ashamed, or worried, but the only emotion he could muster at the moment was...proud. 

Qui-Gon tightened his arms around Obi-Wan and cleared his throat. “I have been accused of stubbornness in the past,” he began, hesitant. “And blindness where those around me are concerned, especially when I get an idea in my head.” 

Obi-Wan pushed himself up on an arm to look down at Qui-Gon. He raised an eyebrow. “Is this an apology?” 

“Eventually,” Qui-Gon said, ruefull. “Mostly, it’s to say that I won’t go after Dooku. I cannot promise that if I run across him I won’t engage, but I will not seek him out.” Obi-Wan closed his eyes.

“Thank you,” he said. 

Qui-Gon stroked his hand through Obi-Wan’s hair. “But Obi-Wan...I still do not think I can lead these men to their deaths.” 

Obi-Wan sighed. “I know,” he said. “A compromise? We know there are greater forces at work. Perhaps that shall be your task. You, and a squad of troops—we can search for volunteers, even—would be tasked with searching for a way to end this war, for good.” 

Qui-Gon smiled, and pulled Obi-Wan down into a kiss. “Why do I continue to doubt you, my love?” 

Obi-Wan quirked an eyebrow. “It _is_ a rather annoying habit,” he said. “And if that pleases you, I have a few other plans to discuss. In the bedroom, perhaps?”

The world spun, and Obi-Wan laughed as Qui-Gon neatly hefted him over his shoulder and carried him to Obi-Wan’s bed, the Force thrumming, pleased, around them.

* * *

Yet another day, and yet another Council meeting, open to all who would bear the rank of General, and Obi-Wan had not nearly enough sleep, or tea, to deal with the constant bickering of a gathering far more used to debating theology than strategy. His mind kept drifting to the night before, to the declarations whispered against skin and the way they had lost themselves to each other again and again. 

At least the aches Obi-Wan felt today were _pleasant_ , even if they provided far too effective a distraction. 

Case in point, Master Poof had been speaking for nearly five minutes, and Obi-Wan couldn’t say he knew thing one about what the other Master had said. A quick glance into the gathered masters not on the council showed that Qui-Gon was in a similar state, his tall frame braced against the wall, as if leaning casually and not propping himself up. All those diplomatic functions were good for something. 

Of course, once Obi-Wan looked, he found himself unwilling to look away. Qui-Gon had returned to his rooms briefly, to shower and change before the meeting, and he looked far more kempt than Obi-Wan had last seen him--and he didn’t know which version of Qui-Gon he liked better. The Qui-Gon from last night had let his hair down to fall about his shoulders, had been uncompromising in his skin, and had let the love he felt shine freely from his eyes. 

This Qui-Gon had his hair pulled back in his customary half-tail, and was dressed in much more formal tunics than he usually favored. In fact, Obi-Wan wasn’t sure he had ever seen Qui-Gon wear the high collar outside of a funeral. 

He had to look away quickly when he realized why, pushing back the rush of heat he felt. 

Turning to once again focus on the meeting, he realized Mace’s focus had turned to him. Obi-Wan raised his eyebrow, and Mace narrowed his eyes. A moment later, Mace’s eyes flickered to Qui-Gon and widened comically, his composure failing spectacularly as he looked at Obi-Wan before he brought his face under control. 

Obi-Wan looked, to see Qui-Gon casually brushing his hair forward, once more hiding the spectacular bruising on the side of his neck. 

Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes, and on the far side of the room, Qui-Gon smirked.


End file.
